


Aftermath

by ravenarc



Series: One Shots [7]
Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Murder, Panic, Panic Attacks, Sad, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-08-04 08:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenarc/pseuds/ravenarc
Summary: After three Dream members are brutally murdered in the dorm, the remaining fifteen boys have to learn to deal with their grief.//this is a vent piece, wrote it in one sitting and it's currently two am so that explains the quality pretty accurately lmao





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ayo Im not dead even though it seems like it because I haven't posted I apologize but I'm alive with literally no time on my hands at all so :/ anyways enjoy this, leave comments and kudos if you like it!! Lots of love <3

_ ‘Please.’ _

If he closes his eyes tight, tighter than grief’s grip on his heart, Ten can hear Chenle. He can hear the tremor. He can hear every single break and bend and in just one word, one word that Ten has burned in the back of his brain, he can be shut down for hours.

_ Days,  _ even.

 

It’s been a few weeks now, but nothing has changed. 

John stares at the wall in silence. He can’t remember sitting down, can’t remember choosing to just  _ look.  _ Look at nothing at all- he can’t remember making the choice.

_ ‘Don’t-’ _

Johnny is thankful that there’s no image with the audio he’s tucked into his mind, because just like the way his wall stares blank, so does his memory of… _ it.  _

 

Trauma. 

Trauma breaks the mind apart. It makes holes and splits personalities, it forges fires and burns things to the ground. Trauma keeps Taeil up at night. Trauma has rendered him sleepless for a month, maybe.

Rendered him speechless.

He’s better than some, though, because he actually leaves the bedroom. He paces up and down the hallway. He wonders why he doesn’t just go back  _ home.  _ Home to his family, family by blood, but he knows why. This is his family too. A big family.

A  _ not-quite-whole  _ family.

Not anymore.

_ ‘Stop-’ _

 

One might argue that Kun is doing the best. 

Out of all 15, Kun is definitely the lowest.

But Kun, he goes on walks. He leaves the  _ house,  _ and to the outside world that’s healed enough for them. 

They don’t know the walks are hours long.

Hours of absolutely nothing. Hours of Kun’s slow steps becoming fast ones until he’s running for his life. Running running running. Running till his legs give out and his lungs give out and each and every time his body considers giving up completely. Overworked, malnourished.

_ Sad.  _ Kun is very sad.

_ ‘Help-’  _ Kun wants to scream, but he can’t because the fall has slammed the breath from his lungs and as his vision fades black it’s Haechan’s weak plea that taunts him till he’s gone.

_ I tried. _

_ I promise you I tried- _

 

“They cleared the videos. It’s gone for good.” Yuta stands in front of Sicheng laying on the couch. The blond removes his arm from his face, peering up at him with tired eyes. He purses his lips. Returns his arm to his forehead.

“Did you hear me?”

Silence.

“Sicheng-”

“I can’t.” 

Yuta knows he doesn’t mean he can’t hear him.

“Okay-”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what-”

“Bring them up again.”

_ ‘HYUNG-’ _

 

_ In and out. Breathe in and out. _ Maybe if he stays this way long enough he’ll wither away and die.

It’s these thoughts that have begun to poison what used to be a positive place, a beautiful place, in Jaehyun’s mind. It doesn’t seem to matter now, though, because the light has been diluted and the space has been polluted and now all he hears are  _ screams.  _ Jaehyun doesn’t get words, no, he’s not that lucky.

He gets the chilling sounds of death. He gets the voices of his younger brothers, incoherent yet so purely individual he can tell each one apart.

He gets the way it’s cut off too.

He knows exactly when Jaemin stopped breathing.

 

Mark would like to tell you he doesn’t feel anything. He thinks that sounds cooler and safer and he thinks that that’s what he’s  _ supposed  _ to feel.

Absolutely nothing at all.

But the truth is, every day his eyes reopen, he wishes that they wouldn’t. Every time, every  _ goddamn  _ time, he feels the pain just as fresh slice his chest open. He can feel every wound he knows littered their bodies on his own, but for him it never ends. For Mark, the very same invisible gashes bleed him dry until he feels everything  _ but  _ nothing.

Every day he hears them. Every day, he hears them beg for death.

There is nothing,  _ nothing,  _ that is ever going to compare to hearing Chenle whisper through dry lips and blood;  _ ‘make it stop.’  _

Nothing.

 

“You’re sure they’re gone.” Sicheng follows Yuta to the kitchen ten minutes after Yuta had left, and his question masquerading as a statement hangs in the air between them while Yuta runs the water in the sink.

He can’t remember why he turned it on.

“Completely.”

“Certain?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Sicheng nods and Yuta turns around, tap still on.

Between the sound of the water splashing the steel and the whirring of the empty fridge the two of them breathe. Just...  _ breathe  _ into the extra.

“Did you ever…  _ watch  _ them?” Sicheng whispers. He looks at the floor, the only thing that can’t stare back at him, because the walls have ears and the ceiling eyeballs don’t you know. Yuta bites his tongue, horror dropping his heart into his stomach and breaking a cold sweat across his entire body. The thought- the thought of  _ watching  _ them-

No. No, Yuta did not.

“No.”

Silence. Then,

_ “I did.”  _

Yuta thought that when Sicheng brought the videos up again he couldn’t feel any worse. That his heart couldn’t drop any further and his nausea couldn’t hit him harder. Knowing Sicheng re-lived it, though-

That forces the contents of his stomach to rebel and for a moment he think he might truly vomit. 

But he doesn’t, and instead he grips the countertop with knuckles whiter than snow. 

Sicheng’s eyes are red and tears begin to slip down his skin. Yuta tries to fight them too, ones of his own trickling out of the corners of his eyes.

_ “Why?”  _ He can hardly see with how blurry the tears are making his vision, and the two of them fight their losing battle against their bodies together. Sicheng shakes with his sobs, five feet away in the doorway.

_ “It didn’t feel- real-”  _ Sicheng takes a step forward, blind himself and Yuta lets go of the counter, meeting in the middle. They don’t stop, and instead they collide and lock on to each other like they’re the only thing keeping each other alive.

“I just wanted them to die- Is that awful? I wanted them to die so the pain would stop-”

_ “I know.” _

“I want them back, Yuta-” His shoulders shake and his chest quivers and Yuta only hugs him tighter, trying to stop the shaking for them both.

_ “I know.” _

But not even sobs and running taps can drown out the black and white reruns.

 

In the bottom of the Han river, had water not ruined it, Haechan’s phone would buzz with the sound of texts once an hour.

Every hour, on the hour.

The name  _ Bunny Hyung  _ would pop up on the screen and the accompanying ding would go off and if his phone wasn’t drenched and if he wasn’t dead maybe he would get to read them.

_ I miss you. _

_ Are you coming home? _

_ When will you be home? _

_ We miss you. _

_ I didn’t tell you I loved you enough. _

_ Hyuck can you hear me up there, do you think? Is that how heaven works? _

_ Are you ever coming home? _

Doyoung hits send.

Every single time Doyoung hits send.

Every single time the screen rejects him.

_ ‘Number no longer in service.’  _

Donghyuck is not receiving his messages.

Dead or alive, soaked or dry, Haechan isn’t receiving a single one.

 

The lights are too bright.

Every fucking time they’re too bright.

Taeyong’s suit is clean and pressed, hair washed and appropriate makeup donned for the interview. It feels like every few seconds Taeyong is in an interview. He finishes one, he moves on to another. They all ask the same questions. They all get the same answers.

_ ‘What happened that night?’ _

They died.

_ ‘But, but  _ how  _ did that occur? It happened in the dorms, no?’ _

The place we sleep.

_ ‘That’s right.’  _ The interviewer is going to be sympathetic, because Taeyong doesn’t suspect anyone of feigning that for an incident like this. Children died. It’s horrible. He can only think of one monster in the world who wouldn’t feel a thing, and they’re the one who did the deed.

_ ‘How did they get inside?’ _

The staff left the door unlocked. (Said staff have long since been terminated). 

_ ‘Those three were the only ones in the dorm?’ _

Yes.

_ ‘But all of you saw it happen?’ _

Broadcast to our phones. Live and personal.

Taeyong has practiced saying these things to the mirror until the words became meaningless. They’re just words, after all. He no longer cries when he says them, no longer tears up when he admits he wasn’t there to stop it.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

He steps into the blinding glare.

 

“Say that again?”

“You can go home.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to do with himself, standing in the middle of the office floor like he’s been stuck like a butterfly on a wooden board. He swallows, shock making his limbs go numb.

“Did you hear me?” His manager raises his eyebrows, concern etching itself on his old, tired face. Lucas never thought of him as an old man, but his age has begun to show in recent months. Stress has turned his hair grey, grief has painted lines in his face. Lucas knows  _ why.  _

He knows those kids meant a lot to him too.

“I- did.”

“So will you be going home? The company wants to give you all a break due to… you know.” Lucas bites his tongue, shaking his head. He isn’t saying no, he just can’t do much else. He can feel the pain begin to bubble up, fresh just like it was all  _ yesterday.  _

His manager nods even though nothing has been said.

“Rest well.” Is all he says, and Lucas nods.

“You too.”

He turns and makes his escape, beginning to hyperventilate. Why? Where is the panic coming from?

But he knows where, and he knows that nothing is going to be able to stop the attack, so instead of stopping he breaks into a run and doesn’t look back. Down the hallway, down the stairs, out of the building, down the street. He realizes his face isn’t covered but doesn’t really care; if he keeps running, nothing is going to stop him.

Nothing but Jaemin’s face appearing on the nearest screen. Fifteen feet tall, a tribute on the TV’s that decorate the streets of Seoul, finding themselves on the sides of buildings and restaurants. 

_ We miss you. Rest in peace.  _

_ Our hero. _

The world knows. The entire world knows he died a hero.

Sort of.

Lucas can’t help it. He can’t help the way the breath has been slammed from his lungs with the image of Jaemin smiling in front of him. He stands in the middle of the street, people and traffic bustling around him, recognition slowly beginning to register on few faces, a crowd growing.

They want to know what the fuck Wong Yukhei is doing in public, unprotected and alone.

They want to know how he’s still breathing, how he hasn’t lost it yet.

Lucas wishes he had just gone home.

 

“I think Lucas needs rescuing. And Kun, I haven’t seen him in hours.” Sicheng is back on the couch and Yuta is standing in front of him again. “You know what Kun does-”

“I know.”

“So can we look for him?”

“Of course.”

“Then get up.” Sicheng can’t.

He physically doesn’t have the strength.

They’re silent for a moment, listening to Taeil’s footsteps as he paces.

“I’ll go alone-”

“Don’t do that-”

“I have to.” Sicheng knows he’s right. There’s another moment of silence before he speaks up.

“It’s been a long time, you know that right?”

Yuta nods.

“I know.”

“Why does it still hurt so much.”

“Because there’s absolutely nothing in the world worse than this. It will only stop hurting when something worse comes alone.”

“Which it can’t.”

“So it will never go away.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

 

Jungwoo has been watching Johnny for days, mostly because it’s like his hyung has become stone and it’s shocking to catch any movement at all. Every once in a while, when hunger forces Jungwoo out of bed- maybe once every two or three days- he’ll bring food for Johnny too. Even if it’s inconsistent and never enough, Jungwoo feels like he’s really doing something positive, making sure he doesn’t starve to death.

He walks on limbs that feel like cotton and he thinks he might be floating, lightheadedness taking over his body. He passes Taeil, who says nothing, and he passes Yuta and Sicheng who stare at him like a ghost. Jungwoo doesn’t have the energy to acknowledge them. He dips into the kitchen but stops dead in his tracks when he sees the water running. 

_ Still  _ running from forever ago. 

He stares for a minute, unable to think anything of it but wonder why it’s like that. Who turned it on? What did they want?

Someone is in the doorway behind him and suddenly Yuta is slipping by him whispering curse words under his breath.

“That was me, sorry,” He says, shutting off the tap. Noise Jungwoo didn’t know he was hearing is suddenly gone and the rom feels so much colder. “Jungwoo?” Yuta takes a tentative step forwards.

“Where’s Taeyong?”

“At an interview-”

“Lucas?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kun.”

“I- don’t know.”

Silence.

“I need to bring Johnny something.” Yuta snaps into action.

“Of course-” He throws the fridge open-

Empty.

Jungwoo can’t bring himself to care. He walks up to the cupboards on shaking legs, reaching for two glasses. He turns on the tap. Fills them. Stares at it before turning it off.

Yuta decides he needs to go grocery shopping.

“I’m going to go find Kun and Yukhei,” He says quietly. “I can bring food home too, is there anything you want?” Yuta knows that something like this is trivial. Food is not a priority, obviously, and everybody is nauseous all the time anyways so nothing ever stays down.

“No.”

“Nothing at all?” Jungwoo turns to look at him slowly, hands shaking so much he’s afraid he’ll hit the counter and shatter his wrists.

“Unless you can bring the boys back there’s nothing I want from you Yuta.” He spits. 

Yuta is astonished before hurt like he’s been slapped seeps into his skin. Jungwoo leaves the glasses when he retreats from the battleground. Yuta came in peace.

Pain doesn’t fucking care.

Jeno, Renjun, and Jisung sit in silence and it weighs like a heavy blanket on their hearts. None of them have touched their phones since that day, terrified they’ll light up the screen and see their very worst nightmare play itself back out.

Again and again and again.

“Why-”

“Jisung please-”

“Why? What did they ever do to anyone?  _ Anyone  _ at all?” That’s weak. It’s a weak question and Jisung knows it. Nothing stops him from asking it though, even Jeno’s soft pleas. “Why them-”

“Ji-”

_ “Why like  _ that?” Anyone with access to the internet had the ability to see what happened to them. Everyone watched them suffer.

Everyone knows that they did not descend into eternal “peace” easily. Renjun stares at nothing while Jisung talks. He’s been asking the same questions for hours and he’s run out of answers.

“Don’t talk about it. Don’t even think about it.” Renjun spits. He wants to throw up, terror and pain and pure  _ longing  _ eating away at his stomach. 

“You know I see it when I close my eyes, hyung.” Jisung’s voice is low. “I know what a knife buried hilt deep in a 16 year old’s body looks like.” Each word feels like a slap in the face, hitting Renjun harder and harder with every syllable.  _ “I know you do too.”  _ That’s it.

Renjun leaps up, making a break for the bathroom. Jeno follows him,

“Look at what the fuck you just did Jisung!” Jeno yells in frustration, patting Renjun’s back while he retches into the toilet. Jisung doesn’t move. He stares blankly at nothing at all- he learned this trick from Johnny- and he waits for them to come back.

Oh, and Jeno and Renjun too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because this really randomly did so well I'm turning it into a miny* 4 part project. Next chapter will be the event itself, and then the fourth will just be more aftermath I suppose. Anyways, enjoy and await what's to come :(
> 
> *guys I spent a really long time looking over this word "miny" because it didn't look right only to discover for myself like three hours after posting that its spelt mini SO instead of changing it I thoughtd id let y'all know how fucking stupid I actually am don't let my writing fool u *finger guns* luv ya

****

“Hyung remind me,  _ where,  _ again?” Jaemin rubs his eyes, exasperated.  He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, Haechan laying on the upper one propped up on his elbow. Both of their pairs of eyes are trained on Mark, standing in the doorway. He purses his lips, shifting his weight from side to side.

“It’s just another schedule,” He says. “We’re going to be back in a couple hours-” 

“And when can we practice with all seven if you’re off promoting U all the time?” Jaemin asks. It’s been a long day.

A long couple of weeks, actually, and although the boys understand idol life and schedules, Mark’s constant disappearances make it seem like Dream is not his priority.

“I know, I’m sorry, this is really difficult but I’ll be back-” The weariness is plain as day in his voice and Hyuck sighs heavily.

“Let it go Jae.” He mutters, sitting up completely and clambouring down the ladder. He walks across the floor, grabbing a sweater to pull over his white shirt. Mark watches him as if he’s scared Hyuck is going to do something. What? Hit him? When has that ever happened? But regardless, he can feel the anger and frustration roll off his friend in waves.

Hyuck can feel his eyes on him and he throws his hands up in annoyance.

“It’s not your fault Hyung, get out of here.” Mark purses his lips again but concedes, waving half assed at Jaemin and backing out of the space. They can hear him open the door to the dorm. Close it. Lock it. When he’s gone, Haechan pulls their door closed, turning around to make eye contact with Jaemin. The two of them let out a heavy sigh together, as if sighing is something that’s just become a part of them now. It seems like it has been, with them and all the others too. You sigh, you keep going.

Disappointed? Move on.

Scared? Get back up.

Defeated? Never.

“He’ll be tired when he gets back.” Jaemin says without any real reason why.

“He will be.”

“We can just let him rest then,”

“The others aren’t going to like that,”

“The boys will be fine-”

“I don’t mean the boys.” Hyuck doesn’t break eye contact. “You know I don’t mean the boys.” Jaemin falls silent and the two of them mull over what their superiors might do if they found out how little they’ve been able to practice with all the Dream members. 

Sure, Jaemin is almost always available, but the others- much less so. Every other member has a show to shoot or a debut to prepare for or a sub-unit to promote with and therefore  _ their _ unit is suffering.

A  _ lot  _ for it.

And nobody seems to care.

They can hear the front door of the dorm open again with a click and the sound of voices.

“Speaking of boys-” Haechan, still standing by the bedroom door, opens it to allow the flow of noise come stronger. Staff and Chenle mix together in a flurry.

“-and then Kun hyung-” Haechan rolls his eyes at Jaemin playfully and waits for his friend to catch up before stepping into the main room to hear the rest of Chenle’s story.

“Kun hyung what?” Jaemin asks, and Chenle’s face, tired, lights up. He shoulders his bag onto the floor and runs up to the two of them, much to the dismay of the three staff members with him.

_ ‘Why is he back so early?’  _ Haechan mouths to them, pointing at the 16 year old. One of the men motions for him to come over and while Jaemin entertains Chenle, Hyuck does.

“Worn out.” Says the man, crossing his arms across his chest and sighing. “Collapsed-” If this were the first time Hyuck was receiving this kind of news about people he loved his eyes might bug out of their sockets.

But they don’t because it’s not. 

Not even close.

Hyuck is silent for a second regardless, peering at Chenle with squinty eyes as if to take in every detail. Now, after a second glance, he can see all the evidence. He makes quick eye contact with Jaemin, who’s noticed the cues too and after a second he puts an arm around Chenle, who still somehow has the energy to chat away, and leads him off into the bedroom. Hyuck turns back to the staff members.

“Thank you,” He says sheepishly.

“Make sure he rests.” Says another one of them on the way out. “It’s gonna be the same shit this evening-”

“Yes of course.” Haechan wanted to follow them out the door to ask more questions, like ‘how and when exactly and did he pass  _ completely  _ out or-’ but that comment, that  _ it’s gonna be the same shit this evening  _ glues him in place. Of course Chenle is expected out again tonight.

Hyuck lets out his hundredth sad/mad/frustrated/tired sigh of the afternoon, listening to the way the door clicks shut. In his resignation he fails to hear the absence of the lock, and in the staffs’ flurry of things to do none of them bothered to worry. Who needs to lock a dorm room right? Inside a building?

Sort of?

Hyuck walks back to the bunks where Jaemin and Chenle are seated on Jaemin’s bed, propped up against pillows and turned towards each other like young kids discussing new crushes.

“-tell me about the song,” Jaemin asks, intent like this is the most important thing to him.

“It’s  _ amazing,”  _ Chenle looks so into it, body language screaming excitement despite the lack of strength in his limbs. “Or at least, I think it’s amazing. Am I allowed to say it’s amazing if I worked on it-”

“Of course you can,” Hyuck saunters over, pushing Jaemin to the left to make room for himself on the bed. Jaemin groans, conceding, and the two of them adjust themselves to face Chenle, with their backs to the door, who very suddenly looks as tired as the staff made him out to be. 

When his face, spaced out and already confused grows that much paler Hyuck takes no notice, but Jaemin follows his eyes. He looks over his shoulder.

He’d blame the goddamn door for an absence of noise.

He’d blame himself for not paying attention.

He’d never, in a hundred years, think of blaming the staff or the building.

 

Mark gets to the schedule in under fifteen minutes, gut tossing and turning about the way he left Haechan and Jaemin. It’s not his fault that he had to go, not at all, but regardless he hates the way their faces look in his mind; twisted with feigned  _ okay-ness,  _ fear resting under the masks too. He sighs as he gets out of the car, pulling his bag with him and rushing into the prep room. Most of the other U Hyung’s are already there, gathering this or that or pulling on some sort of outfit.

“You’re late,” Doyoung elbows him playfully while he buttons up his jacket. Mark doesn’t joke back, which sets the mood for the rest of the evening. 

“Problem, Mark?” Taeyong asks from across the room, eyebrows knitting in concern. 

“Puberty-”

_ “That  _ out of  _ your  _ mouth Jungwoo? I’m surprised.” Doyoung laughs, and so does Jaehyun who unzips Mark’s bag for him- he’s zoned out.

Something about a particular text he’s just received feels kind of…

wrong.

When are you going to be back?

“I told them-”

“What’s wrong?” Winwin is just walking in, obviously coming straight from the China practice.

“Just…nothing.” Mark puts the phone down.  _ I told them a couple hours.  _

“How’s practice going?” Taeyong asks Sicheng who’s already taking off his sweat soaked clothing. “Gross, I see.” Sicheng laughs dryly.

“Would be better if the kids would stop passing out on me,” He says. Doyoung shakes his head and Mark inhales sharply. 

“You know that’s not,  _ healthy,  _ right?” Jaehyun asks the silence and the rest of them say nothing. They  _ know,  _ but what can they do about something like that anyways?

“That must be why they texted.” Mark mumbles to himself. 

“What?”

“Nothing Hyung-”

“You guys have six minutes before soundcheck.” The nasally voice of some overworked, underpaid venue employee graces their ears, snapping them from any unimportant revelries. He ducks back out of them room, leaving them alone once again, and Mark finishes adjusting his jacket. 

Fate, destiny, or just really good timing decided they should all have their phones in their hand when the message is first broadcast. 

Look.

And then before they have a chance to look  _ away,  _ the video, the  _ live stream  _ takes over their screens and despite being plunged into  _ red,  _ Mark sees only black.

After seeing Hyuck first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put my all into everything but this is still just a side project so if people are dissatisfied with it im sorry Im busy and TIRED XC but I don't think it's THAT bad so hopefully you guys dont either, Ill be back with more of this and more of my other stories soon <3 ilyyyyy reading my work means so much to me


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im changing the layout, each boy will have a chapter to yk, die.
> 
> Sorry this took so long, sorry it's shit, this isn't very detailed because it was born out of a vent piece and I honestly shouldn't have continued it but I will because I've led y'all on lmao so here's this bit, in a perfect world I'd be updating all my stories soon but im super fucked rn so TAKE THIS *aggressively gives it to you, but not aggressive because I love ya* and I HOPE to be back soon even though we all know I won't be okay peace out have fun

“Chenle what’s wrong-” Haechan’s voice leaves his throat small and might have trailed off if Jaemin’s hand didn’t slap down on his knee, cutting him off abruptly instead. Jaemin spins around on the bed, on his feet in an instant. 

Four figures block the light from the living room seeping in. They block the doorway, the exits. They block what the three young boys had no idea would be their last glimpse of anything but the four walls of their bedroom.

Chenle struggles to sit upwards, confusion on his face plain as day. Hyuck stands beside Jaemin, right leg half asleep. It aches with pins and needles he can’t feel.

“Hi?” Jaemin’s brows knit together into a deep frown, but he smiles. These people could be lost. Lost. Inside. Our house? “Can we help you?” New staff, maybe, new stylists.  _ Trainers, _ even, these people look like they work out. Haechan nods alongside him, reading his thoughts. He’s got his right arm slanted slightly out to the side as if there’s anything to protect Chenle from or as if his limb will do anything at all.

It won’t. He’s going to find out it won’t.

Very quickly the boys feel the shift, and when one of them closes the bedroom door, making the space feel cramped and hot and the fear really begins to sink in, the boys begin to understand;

These people are not lost.

Haechan stands up, taking a step forwards immediately, which launches the very beginning of it all.  It’s from here that everything happens so quickly even their corpses- if corpses could talk- would not be able to tell you a thing.

Haechan is grabbed first, and one of the three men is setting up a camera and Jaemin is yelling something Chenle doesn’t understand. Hyuck fights, terror ripping through him like a lightning bolt.

The chair is pulled away from their desk; Hyuck is thrown into it.

A stand- from one of the backpacks the people carry- is placed in front of him; the camera sits on top of it.

Jaemin is on his feet in seconds, eyes trained on Hyuck whose hands are being bound behind his back and none of it makes  _ sense.  _ His mind is screaming and then  _ he  _ is yelling curses until he hears Donghyuck yell; “Jaemin stop!” and he feels something connect with his face- it was only a hand- and he’s sent reeling backwards, knocking back into the bunkbed and clutching the railing, clutching his cheek. Everything is fast and everything is  _ scary  _ and everything is wrong. So wrong.

“Shut up.” Is all the first man says, and just like that the room is silenced. The first push ends with Hyuck in the chair, Chenle and Jaemin forced to sit on the edge of the bed. It ends with the beginning of the broadcast. 

 

Hyuck’s vision was spotted with the very first blow, that’s how hard it was, but two minutes into it all he isn’t seeing  _ anything  _ anymore. Nothing but red with each hit. 

He reels back as far as the chair let’s him go, swearing he heard his jaw crack and feeling the burst of blood against his skin, dribbling down his chin to his throat. His breaths come quickly, and the shock and the pain don’t make such a mundane act any easier.

_ “Hyuck-” _ He hears Jaemin whisper his name, voice small, terrified. He seems detached, eyes glued to the chair, not to Hyuck himself. Haechan groans, neck sore from snapping backwards so quickly. His face burns and his jaw feels  _ broken  _ and absentmindedly he’s reminded of the camera filming this. Like,  _ right now filming this very thing.  _ He wants to tell Jaemin he’s okay. He wants to tell Chenle to hang on. To wait. This will be over soon.

His hair is grasped in a tight fist, pulling his head right back again. Hyuck can feel the twinge of pain in his neck-

And he’s terrified of how exposed his throat is.

Instinctively, his hands fight to push off his attacker, to cover his open skin and hide what’s so  _ goddamn  _ vulnerable. The fuck was God thinking when he created  _ throats  _ anyways;

One little hole? Dead.

But his hands are tied.

Hyuck’s hands are literally tied, and he struggles against the bonds weakly. He can’t let them know he’s scared he can’t let them know he’s scared he can’t-

_ “It’s almost over.”  _ The words ghost down his skin, lips so close to his ear it makes Hyuck want to vomit. At first, his heart leaps with excitement. It’s almost over!

And then those words hit just a little harder.

It’s… almost over.

“Wait-” Jaemin heard him too, and Hyuck’s eyes are wide,  _ resigned-  _

Resigned? Jaemin shakes his head violently, everything happening too quickly.  _ You’re not allowed to give up! Fight him! Fight him.  _ Fight.

Hyuck doesn’t. He can’t. He can’t even more, not even when the pain rips across his abdomen, not even when the blade slips inside. He feels the pain and he hears the screaming and he can't do anything about it. Chenle’s stomach leaps and turns and spins and contorts like an acrobat with the way his hyung- his  _ hyung-  _ groans, the way his body tenses. With the way it relaxes, slow, like he’s in agony. Hyuck’s shining eyes stare at the nothing in front of him as the man pulls away. Shining, shining.

Dulling.

He fights for consciousness, but he can’t feel his lungs anymore. He can’t feel his hands or his legs or his wrists and arms and heartbeat he can’t feel his heartbeat his heartbeat-

His eyes close, just for a second. Just for a moment of rest.

Hyuck is really tired, right? He’s really tired because it’s been days of these very mean men poking at him and he’s really tired because he’s been bleeding for hours and maybe he should just fall asleep. So just for a second Hyuck closes his eyes.

They don’t even wait for him to stop breathing. 

Very quickly, someone is behind the teen slumped awkwardly in the blood stained chair. Slumped like he’s broken. Unnatural. His arms fall away from behind him after a moment and for a split second Chenle’s heart leaps in his chest. He thought he moved them.

This is not the case.

_ “You killed him.” _ Chenle’s voice surprises himself, hardly even there. Blood from a cut he doesn’t remember sustaining drips into his eyes but he can’t wipe it away.  _ “You killed him.”  _ Jaemin’s breath catches in his throat beside Chenle, eyes trained on Hyuck’s form. The person who untied Hyuck’s wrists stands up from his crouch behind the chair, checking his vitals with a hand to his throat. He nods at one of the other men, who turns,  _ gently,  _ towards the two shocked boys on the bed. They can’t comprehend a thing.

“We made it very clear from the beginning that we were going to kill him, yes?”

Jaemin’s head is shaking  _ no  _ back and forth, confusion, exhaustion, tears wracking his figure. He’s  _ dead.  _

That doesn’t happen to real people.

Does it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it was okay, ik its boring and I know I can probably do better but im scraping the bottom of the barrel and idk why, im in such a mood for literally no reason yall h e l p okay anyways ily bye more soon


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC CONTENT, JUST WARNING YA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyy ya girl is back. not much to say, pretty busy, pretty sad, but whats new lol. hope you like it, ily uwu and the last(?) part will be out eventually. thanks for chillin with me on this wild ride

One of the four individuals- the one standing behind the camera- speaks up.

“-running out of time-” Chenle can’t hear everything, not with the blood rushing in his ears, not with Hyuck’s body on the floor. His. Body. Chenle just stares, blinking. His wrists ache behind him to just come apart, to free his hands and let him go brush the hair out of Hyuck’s eyes because it looks like the strands are poking him; how uncomfortable is that? Jaemin shakes beside him, but Chenle hardly notices. All he sees is Haechan, eyes closed, body covered in red, like, a  _ lot  _ of red. 

Red belongs inside.

His lips move with the same utterance over and over again, but no sound comes out.  _ You killed him. You killed him. You killed him.  _ The words don’t even make sense. They don’t make sense because Donghyuck isn’t dead because  _ that doesn’t happen in real life and this can’t fucking be happening and-  _

Chenle is pulled to his feet, broken out of the trance he had fallen into. Shock courses through his limbs as he plants his feet on the ground.  _ Where am I going?  _

But it’s obvious to Jaemin in seconds.

“Wait don’t fucking touch him-” His voice leaps from his throat raspy and deep, deeper than it’s been his whole life. It’s hoarse and it hurts and it rips at the tears in his esophagus but Jaemin doesn’t care because Hyuck is on the floor and Chenle is being shoved towards the chair.  _ The  _ chair. The chair that was just an office chair until it became the scary chair and seconds ago  _ the chair that Lee Donghyuck died in.  _ Chenle is pushed into the chair.

One would deem it impossible for Jaemin to be any more scared than he was moments ago, but a new wave of terror slams against his body so hard Jaemin’s vision darkens. Chenle’s in the chair.

_ “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”  _ He’s louder this time. His voice lacks the ‘frantic’ feel he was so certain it was going to have, and instead he sounds strong. Terrifying. Like he’s in charge. 

The man who grabbed Chenle, the man who  _ killed  _ Hyuck, turns towards Jaemin. He cocks an eyebrow, as if Jaemin isn’t supposed to be speaking at all.

“Or you’ll  _ what, _ eh?” He hisses, but Jaemin’s eyes are on fire. This man killed Hyuck. This man is in our house and Chenle is in the chair and this man killed Hyuck. 

At no point whatsoever during the entire event did the boys ever get an answer. At no one point in time did Jaemin know why these people came. Why they hurt them. Why they walked into their house and murdered three children. That wasn’t for them to know. 

The man takes a step forward, looking angry and like he isn’t quite sure what to do with Jaemin yet, until the man from behind the camera facing the chair speaks again.

“Running out of time,” He complains quietly. The murder-man bites his tongue.

“Don’t touch him.” Jaemin says one last time, voice breaking. Everything seems to stop for a moment, and nothing but Chenle’s heavy breathing breaks the silence of the room. The child’s eyes still haven’t left Donghyuck, whose been dragged to the side of the room. Chenle keeps waiting for his chest to rise again. His eyelids to flutter.

“Fine.” The murder-man is speaking to the camera guy. “Camera on him  _ now,”  _ They don’t hesitate, and with the flick of a wrist the camera is facing Jaemin’s direction now. It frames him on the bed, looking smaller than he’s ever appeared before. 

Jaemin’s breathing picks up, another, fresh new wave of terror crashing against his limbs.  _ He’s  _ in the camera. The bed becomes the chair.

Jaemin’s eyes find the camera lense, they find the other watchers. 

They find, through the cold unforgiving glass, the fifteen others. They find his parents.

They waste no time, and the murder-man is sauntering inframe and Jaemin is distracted from the camera by the knife still in his hands and he leans backwards, backwards into nothingness. There is nothing safe about the bunk bed or the wall that Jaemin backs himself into, and suddenly his heart is pounding so loudly he can’t hear himself think.

But he’s thinking regardless, and he’s thinking that if the camera is on him and the murder-man is on him- which he nearly is at this point- then the camera is not on Chenle and neither is murder-man. 

That’s the only thing that matters.

The murder-man grabs his calf and pulls him roughly away from the wall so that Jaemin is very suddenly laying on his back on the bed with his legs dangling over the side. The man’s left hand is on Jaemin’s shoulder, so big it covers his collarbone and almost reaches his chest. And the man is  _ heavy.  _ He’s heavy leaning on Jaemin and with tears in his eyes and eyes on the top bunk Jaemin knows that he isn’t going to escape this. Hyuck is dead and Jaemin can’t move and  _ Jaemin is going to die.  _

“Everything you do from this second forward is in vain,” Spits the murder-man leaning closer and breathing across Jaemin’s skin. He shudders away, his tears, silent, sad tears, slipping one by one down his cheeks. It’s not a shameful crying or an ugly crying. It’s purely just…  _ crying.  _ Jaemin cries for the loss of it. The loss of it all. Of Hyuck. Of himself. Of Chenle-

And even if Chenle gets out, Jaemin knows that he won’t ever really. So he cries for the loss of Chenle’s innocence. The loss of the happy kid, should the traumatized one make it.

He won’t, of course.

“Because no matter what happens, it’s over for you.” The murder-man completes his sentence. His threat? His warning? Jaemin doesn’t know what it is and Jaemin doesn’t care. His limbs shake pressed against the mattress and even with his eyes closed he can feel the tip of the knife in murder-man’s right hand press against his throat. Gently at first.

Chenle can’t move. He can’t move and he can’t move and he can’t  _ move  _ until very slowly his neck cooperates and he can look at Jaemin because Jaemin was loud a second ago but Chenle can’t hear him anymore.  _ That’s not good.  _

His eyes won’t open wide enough to see. Be it the shock. Be it how fucking tired he was beforehand- he had only  _ just  _ passed out, no?- Chenle can’t see. That, and he doesn’t want to. 

_ God,  _ he doesn’t want to.

He makes out the shape of the very same man who was over Hyuck just 45 seconds ago, and he can make out the shape Jaemin, flat on his back. Chest rising and falling rapidly, shirt plastered to his body and a glisten in his eyes that Chenle hates seeing in his Hyungs. That’s the worst. 

He closes his eyes when Jaemin cries out the first time, shaking and jarring every time it happens. Again and again, a small yelp is forced out of Jaemin and Chenle breaks with every one. He tries to force his eyes back open, to  _ see  _ what’s happening because Jaemin can’t suffer alone he needs to tell Jaemin he isn’t alone and that he loves him and that it’s going to be okay-

Chenle can’t. His eyes closed once and through the fatigue and the pain and the horror and the trauma there’s absolutely no way they’re opening back up.

There’s another cry, a  _ scream  _ of pain this time from Jaemin and Chenle’s own tears fall faster. He’s bleeding from his cuts and the holes he’s bitten into his lips and he just wants it to stop.

Stop hurting Jaemin.  _ Please stop hurting him. _

_ “Make it stop-” he gasps. “Please stop hurting him please stop-”  _ But Chenle hardly has to say a thing. The man pulls away, and he can hear Jaemin’s breaths and wheezes and coughs. Chenle can’t open his eyes but he knows he’s  _ alive.  _

Chenle can’t see the way the time is running out, though. 

The bed is blood soaked now, and Jaemin lays there ripped apart. Like wolves tore through a rabbit, ate it alive, and left it still breathing to die alone. Broken. Unwhole. 

The blood just keeps coming, gushing out of Jaemin’s wounds and running through the places a knife was just moments before. Jaemin’s body screams in agony, and his organs feel air on them in a way they shouldn’t.

But Jaemin just stares. He stares at the top bunk the way he has so many times before. He remembers sleepless nights and nights where Jisung or Chenle lay next to him, scared or stressed and in need of comfort. Nights where Jeno claimed he was too tired so he fell asleep next time him instead of moving back to his own bunk. Nights where Jaemin lay alone and just looked. Just thought. 

Thousands of nights he’s spent here with his brothers. Thousands of times he’s looked at the bottom of the bunk above. Thousands of times.

It looks just a little different now. Maybe with the way his vision is darkening. Maybe with the way four extra, imposing bodies are casting shadows on it. Maybe with the way little bits of Jaemin’s red splatters it. That’s not supposed to be there.  _ Red belongs inside.  _

Red belongs inside.

“Ch-enle-” Jaemin surprises everybody. He surprises the boys worlds away, and he surprises Chenle, Chenle who can’t see. But his voice jarrs something inside the sixteen year old that gives him strength, just one second of strength. Chenle’s eyes fly open.

“Hyung!” Chenle shifts in the chair as much as he can against bindings, against fatigue and against a knife and the murder-man. The terror is pushed to a back burner, and all he can see is Jaemin. Jaemin swimming in an ocean of blood.

Jaemin isn’t quite sure what he wanted to tell Chenle, and maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe he just wanted to hear his voice one more time.

“Hyung- Hyung- Hyung please don’t-” Chenle can see him, he can see the way his body shudders. The effort it’s taking for Jaemin to breathe.

Until very suddenly he isn’t anymore. His chest stops moving, and his eyes stay open and they stare like he can’t see anymore. That’s not right.  _ That’s not right that’s not right that’s not right- _

_ “HYUNG! HYUNG!”  _ Chenle can’t hear himself, and Jaemin can’t hear him either. His voice rips out of his throat and his cry is soaked and saturated with fear and horror and  _ pain.  _ Pain in the absolute worst way. Pain like something-  _ someone-  _ very important has been taken away from him. Pain like he’s lost it all.

Because he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babes!

Kun got the notification too, and it’s Kun who was closest to the dorm when it happened. 

His screen turned black, and then it turn red, and he saw unfamiliar men in a room he was already so familiar with. From the very first second Kun had never felt sicker. 

He was in the practice room, the only one left. Lucas and Ten had gone home to a separate dorm currently being used by the Chinese team early, and Sicheng had left for the U performance. Hendery, Xiaojun and Yangyang were still in China, due to fly over in two days to start extra practicing in Korea as a group. 

He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall.  _ Exhausted.  _ They had been practicing nonstop, and he had wanted to help bring Chenle home when he collapsed, but that wasn’t a viable option. He had made peace with that quickly, knowing that the staff could take care of the kid and the rest of them could keep improving. 

But  _ this.  _ This notification on his phone, his sudden inability to ignore it,  _ this  _ was something Kun will  _ never  _ make peace with. 

It takes him seven seconds to understand what he’s watching. It takes two to stand up. One to run to the door, eyes still locked to the screen. These people- these people are going to hurt them-

Four seconds to force himself up the stairs, two to throw the heavy door open with his entire body weight. 

It takes twenty seconds to get out of the building completely. Running past people, through doors, running as fast as he fucking can.

All the while he’s still watching. 

He can  _ not  _ let them-

And then they’re hitting Donghyuck the first time, and Kun bites back a scream of terror as he runs. 

It takes him four minutes to sprint between the two buildings. The practice room is a 20 minute walk away from the dorms, but absolutely nothing is slowing Kun down in this moment.

He doesn’t watch for people, or cars. Not for bikes, not for anything. He only watches his phone.

He has to slow when the knife comes out because his legs stop working, but he’s only a block away from the dorm. He keeps walking in a trance, everything shaking, hands shaking screen shaking legs shaking heart breaking. Donghyuck screams.

Kun is running again, and something clatters behind him on the pavement. He pays absolutely no mind.

He’s in the doorway of the building and he turns the phone off while he shoves inside. 

“I’M COMING- DONGHYUCK- I’M COMING-” There’s no time for the elevator, and Kun has to sprint up five flights of stairs.

That doesn’t stop him.

Kun doubles over on the third floor, everything catching up. The sudden stress, the long practice, the very unhealthy amount of cardio he has forced his body to do that day. He doubles over, his head throbbing violently, and he vomits water and anything he had eaten onto the landing. 

He’s running again, because that waste of time was priceless, that waste of time cost  _ lives  _ in his mind.

For Kun, this all happened in milliseconds, but unfortunately, for the very cruel world, it took almost ten minutes for him to make it. The staff were out, because nobody has to be  _ babysitting  _ anyone safe in the dorms, and other groups were gone, all the security off guard. 

It was only Kun.

And by the time Kun got there-

it was already too late.

He’s up the final steps, bursting into the hallway. All he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears, sweat trickling down his neck and back. His stomach heaves up nothing every other second and he falls into the door when it doesn’t open.

It doesn’t open.

_ Locked- it’s locked-  _ He tries to find his key.

_ That’s  _ what fell out of his pocket.

“CHENLE!” He screams from outside. “NA JAEMIN! HYUCK-” His throat is raw and each name tears at the tissues and his chest won’t stop shooting pain into the rest of his body. He coughs and red splatters his hand.  _ “Don’t- don’t hurt them-”  _ He cries.

Kun cries. 

And then he’s standing again, because he  _ can’t _ give up.

And he  _ hears  _ things. Somebody is choking and coughing and there are deep voices glazing over it all and Kun can’t make out a thing as he slams his body again and again against the door. Again.  _ Bang.  _ Again.  _ Bang.  _ Again.

_ Bang.  _ His shoulder cracks. Why doesn’t he have a key? He  _ knows  _ where the key went.

He should have stopped. If he had known, he would have stopped.

_ “Hyung- Hyung- Hyung please don’t-”  _ Through the door, Kun hears the most chilling thing he ever could. Chenle is begging,  _ begging  _ for someone to listen to him. Kun’s eyes are already weeping salt, but hearing Chenle is worse. What is he asking- 

Both Hyuck and Jaemin are hyung to him, so someone is okay.

_ Someone is okay. _

Kun starts fighting again.

_“BOYS! I’M HERE!”_ _I’m here for you- I’m here-_

He hears the choking sound again, and then he hears more frantic cries for help. Kun is pounding on the door with all his strength again, unable to see a thing, unable to feel the way the walls are breaking his bones. 

Chenle cries out one more time-

before it grows dead silent.

And outside, Kun can hear the police sirens.

“no- no no no-” It’s quiet. Inside the dorm it’s too quiet and the sirens only make it sound quieter because  _ they are too late.  _

Kun takes a step back, entire body shaking. He stares up at the door, the locked door, and the door stares right back.

I’m the not the one who stopped you.

_ You just weren’t strong enough. _

His blood is everywhere. It’s on his clothes, it’s on the floor and it paints the door the kind of crimson made for movies. 

It’s on his skin and it’s left his body.

Kun stares at the door,

and he listens to the quiet. 

He begs for  _ anyone  _ to  _ breathe.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading. Please check out my other works and like mayyyybe even subscribe to me to see my future stuff? (please uwu) anyways I have been beyond busy guys ohmygod but my writers craft course in school has lowkey turned me back onto using what little freetime I have to write again so I'll try to update ANYTHING soon. Ily babes, there will be one final chapter after this to wrap it all up and then it's over. Thank you for enjoying this story!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyy we're done! I've finally accomplished something holy fuck. Anyways, I hope this story hasn't been too disappointing. Pls remember that it was originally just a quick shitty one shot that I expanded because people liked it, however it never really got BETTER lmao XD. Anyways, here you are

The boys have seen all sorts of things on screen throughout their lifetimes. 

Children’s shows, the news their parents would flick on from time to time. Things they never understood as young boys. As they aged, they would watch music videos, live performances. They would see things that inspired who they’ve become today. Idol’s singing,  _ gleaming  _ on stage, their choreographies crisp and tight. Clean. Perfect. Ten year olds would stare at their TV’s with wide eyes as they watch these people flit across their screen. 

As time went by, the boys would get cell phones. They’d listen to the same music and see the same videos on their screens. They’d look at the news for themselves now too. They’d look at things that made them laugh, things that made them angry or mad. The screens were just a part of life. 

With trainee years came countless recordings of their dance practices. They’d put down their phones, video themselves and watch  _ again and again and again  _ to get it all perfect. The screens were their best friends and their biggest enemies. 

But after debut, the screens were everywhere. They’re  _ faces _ were everywhere. And with each new performance they would have to watch it again and again. With each new song they would read the lyrics a million times over. Listen from their phones on the bus and the train and the plane no matter where they were going or what they were doing. 

The screens, the TV’s, their phones, the cameras, became their lives, and no matter what they wanted or needed, the screens were shoved in their faces. No matter what.

_ No matter what. _

They’ve seen each other fall on stage, they’ve seen each other get hit with the fireworks on the edge of the venue and they’ve seen themselves be pushed around in the airports.

But never before- not once in their entire lives- have they seen something like  _ this  _ play out.

Chenle dies the quickest, because it seems to Mark as he watches with absolutely nothing inside of him that the people doing the killing were running out of time. They had to rush it. They had to finish the job and get it over with. 

Johnny would call it a small mercy.

Mark would ask;

If they had no time, why didn’t they just  _ go? _

_ Why couldn’t they let him live. _

The police were called immediately, and they got there as soon as they could. These things take time, and unfortunately not even the cops can stop the hands of the clock. They got to the building in 15 minutes, up the stairs in 17.

The live was capped at 12 ½, and the cops found nothing but three bodies and Kun, unconscious, almost completely gone himself. 

Kun wishes they had killed him when they escaped-

ran  _ away.  _ The cowards ran away, and Kun wishes that they killed him. He wishes they had killed him  _ instead. _

Kun wishes they had died too.

It takes about an hour for everyone to be collected, all the boys to regroup at the hospital. Kun is asleep for fourteen hours before his body finally comes out of shock. 

Sicheng sits at his bedside for all fourteen, and the others come and go too. Nobody knows how to move or what to say to each other. They  _ all  _ watched it happen, and over the course of a couple days each member is faced with questioning and counselling. They were doctored until they couldn’t be doctored anymore, and then finally, they were released back into the world.

The boys never quite recovered, and the nightmares never stopped.

_ “Why?” _ Johnny is the last they talk to. He sits in the space, the quiet falling over his entire body. He’s been swallowed into his chair, unable to find the motivation to take care of himself, and he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

Every time they close he sees it.

“I just want to know why this happened-” His voice breaks and a single tear rolls down his sunken cheek. The deep black around his eyes is hard to look at, but the police are used to grieved faces.

“It appears to be a motiveless murder.” Says the man sitting in front of him. “It’s a reminder that no one is safe. Idols are seen as that; idols. The culprits seemed to have targeted the youngest of a popular group, and because they streamed it live it leads us to that conclusion. They wanted to remind the world how dangerous life really is.”

Johnny blinks.

“They took my  _ brothers.”  _ He whispers. The cop in front of him leans forwards onto the table, sighing heavily.

“And so you can see that it  _ worked.” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you for taking the time to read this. It means so much. I know it wasn't very good, but I'm hoping it made some of you happy <3 love from me guys, please take care.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 ik it's weird, but if you want a second part with a POV from Chenle, Jaemin and Hyuck let me know because i might be able to find the time to do that if it's something anybody wants <3 anyways ily for reading this it really means so much to me


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